


Eredar Lord of the Trifling Gnome

by GreyKittyCat



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Crack, Falling In Love, Falstad Wildhammer - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Muradin Bronzebeard - Freeform, Old Men In Love, Slow Burn, Yes this is serious. No im not kidding. it's also the first use of the jaraxxus tag it seems, but if anyone thinks it should be changed, cracktoberfest2018, death of a single random demon is mentioned, fel lords in miniskirts and plaid, is it slow burn if its only 7k, let me know, no wait. 2 random demons. both only mentioned, rating is for a dirty joke in the post script, that i was told is too mild for an M, various gnome OCs of my own invention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 11:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16366631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyKittyCat/pseuds/GreyKittyCat
Summary: Cracktober was an event for the warcraft hell discord, where we got a randomized pairing and had to create a Hallow’s End themed fic for em!I got gelbin mekkatorque and JARAXXUS, EREDAR LORD OF THE BURNING LEGION. I played it straight!(Did you know Jaraxxus has LORE? He does! His name, backstory- all canon! I didn't make any of that up, promise. I did way too much research for this, and had way too much fun. I hope someone else enjoys it too. )





	1. Meet-cute? Meet chaos.

“Nissa?”

“High Tinker?”

“When you can wrap up, how about you go on down to help get ready. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve stayed nearly an hour later than we agreed on.”

Gelbin Mekkatorque poked his head out of the siege tank he was in the middle of repairing, looking over at one of his top engineers of the Tinkers Court, Nissa Brightgale. She returned the pointed look right to him. Nissa was a bit younger than him at 94, but an accomplished tinker, and he recognized some of his own stubborn streak in her. Setting her wrench aside, she sat back, hand on her hip.

“I could say the same of you!”

He was caught, and he knew it, chuckling sheepishly. It was the first night of celebrations for Hallow’s End, and there was a feast in Ironforge that night to kick things off. As High Tinker, he’d agreed to represent his people at the event.

With some reluctance.

“I promised I’d make the festival, not the preparations. …And I’ll keep that promise!” He added hurriedly.

Nissa sighed good-naturedly, beginning to collect her things. “I believe you. Just don’t be too late, or the others will have my head!”

The ‘for not watching over you’ went unsaid.

She picked up her bag and looked at him again. “The big dinner starts at seven, ok?”  
“Seven.” Gelbin repeated duitifully, and Nissa departed with one last firm point in his direction, eyebrows raised. 

Gelbin watched Nissa go until she’d disappeared over the rise of the hill, then dropped back inside the hull.  

He knew that his poorly-hidden lack of interest in public appearances was talked about in some circles, even if it wasn’t much of a problem in gnomish society. His own people worried about him for other reasons. Since the destruction of their capital, he was hardly ever alone while working in strange or open places if any of his top engineers could help it. Or any of his novice engineers. Or any Tinker’s Court members. Or anyone who happened to be about. Unless he was holed up in his office or at home, there was, not always but often, someone helping him, asking for help, or just puttering around nearby. Anywhere that could possibly be dangerous (or just especially lonely) tended to come with some watchful eyes.

He swore they had to have some sort of chart or calendar on who’d be the one to have a reason to watch him for special nights like this. Gelbin didn’t think he deserved the protective attitude, but if anything that seemed to encourage his citizens’ watchfulness. An official guard might fix the problem, but he just couldn’t stomach the idea of hiring one.

Nissa must have really wanted to go, actually, to have left like that. He wished he’d sent her off sooner.

  
As for him, he’d make his promise, but not yet. He had work to do, and this year’s events had made that work especially important.

There was a goblin saying that war was good business, and Gelbin didn’t wholly disagree- save that he made his business protecting as many of his people as he could.  

This siege engine would have every failsafe, and be better than ever before!

Gelbin was situated in the internal workings of the main engine with his glasses balanced on the tip of his nose, adding redundancies to the cooling lines and lubrication valves for the pistons. Zealous pilots had a habit of trying to push all their machines farther than the specs said was possible, so Gelbin had made a habit of making his machines capable of a bit more than he would write into the specs. The left side was the last side, and he’d be done for the night after that- with any luck he’d be able to keep his promise plus some, and be early.

Gelbin smiled, humming to himself as he measured, fed, and secured the new line.

It was times like this with his whole mind and body focused cleanly on work- good work, that would benefit and protect others, when the guilt that never truly went away was the quietest. If he had his way, not a single soul more among his people would meet an end in war, but as it was.

Well.

Gelbin tightened a bolt on the input valve that would remain closed unless the extra line was needed, running eyes and hands over it to ensure that it was solid.

Suddenly, he was broken out of his little reverie by a racket. It had been so quiet at first that he hadn’t heard it, but now, the ground all but shook with what seemed to be the footfalls of some large creature that was far off but rapidly approaching. A two legged one, by Gelbin’s estimation.

Now, that was odd. Some kind of enemy? He seriously doubted any denizen of the horde could get this far into dwarven territory unhindered, nor be so large. An ettin?

Gelbin figured it was worth a look. As he began carefully extricating himself from the machinery of the tank’s main turbo, the footfalls abruptly came to a stop, seemingly not too far off.

Before he could even come out to properly look, Gelbin heard the call.

“TRIFLING FOOLS, NOT EVEN BUILDING A STRONGHOLD IN THIS STRANGE LOCAL CAN SAVE YOU!”

There was a pause as whoever it was (and who was most certainly not an Ettin) apparently caught his breath, then the yelling continued at an even greater volume. Gelbin could not help but think that this would have been easier on him if he hadn’t stopped so far from the actual gates of Ironforge.

“YOUR ARROGANCE WILL BE YOUR UNDOING!”

**_“FOR THIS FORTRESS”_ **

**_“WILL FACE”_ **

Ironforge’s would-be assailant then paused for one last breath. While he’d been yelling, Gelbin had gotten a good look at him. It was a man’ari: bright red and half naked, wearing little more than a leather skirt and some decorative armor. When he’d gasped for a second, hands on his knees, he leaned back up to holler at absolute max volume:

 

**_“JARAXXUS, EREDAR LORD OF THE BURNING LEGION!!!!”_ **

 

Gelbin was familiar with the name, and the man. He’d been there the last two times this particular Man’ari had been summoned. The only casualty the first time had been the summoner himself, but there’d been a team of 10 or so decent gladiators on hand at the time. The second time, he’d been one amongst the sea of demons they’d faced on the broken shore, and Gelbin had only seen a horde force strike him down early in the fight from afar. Neither time had he faced civilians, and never only one person.  

His thoughts had turned first to all his people behind them in the city, preparing for the celebration. Then, they turned to the tank he was still standing in. It could not yet be driven, but many of the weapons were operational. He took a mental inventory of all of them, how close they were, and how easy to activate.

He was glad Nissa had gone on. Assuming a cheerful, pleasant tone, Gelbin spoke.

“No need to yell. No one can hear you around here, not on a night like this.”

“WHO SAID THAT! SHOW YOURSELF, COWARDLY INSECT!” the Eredar lord snarled, looking around furiously. 

Gelbin waved cheerfully from where he was standing, completely unhidden, in the cockpit of the tank.

Jaraxxus looked down at him, almost cartoonishly shocked.

He looked haggard, and had early snow covering his legs nearly to the knee. Gelbin wondered what poor sod had summoned him, and how far he’d walked to get here.  And how he’d managed to walk here at all without being intercepted.

He hoped the summoner hadn’t been another gnome. Wilfred Fizzlebang had been a criminal and a thoroughly unpleasant man, but he’d been one of Gelbin’s citizens, and as such his responsibility nonetheless.

As Gelbin had been thinking this, Jaraxxus had been looking at him, in turn. For the fel lord… sensed something. Gelbin looked a lot like the trifling gnome who’d summoned him before, and yet…

Something was different.  
There was power in this tiny man.

Jaraxxus could sense the aura of a man who’d soldiered on unending hardship. Despite being forgotten. The aura of a man who’s model hadn’t been updated in 14 years. A man who, while all the other leader’s fancy models were at level 93 in Siege of Orgimmar, was a 123 elite. Instinctively, Jaraxxus knew that no matter where he went and found this gnome, he’d still be a level 123 elite.

Gelbin saw the look on his face and raised his eyebrows.

The fel lord stammered, still yelling. “IS. ARE YOU THIS PLACE’S ONLY DEFENSE?”

Why not? Gelbin nodded cheerfully. “I am.”

“I. I SEE.”

Jaraxxus looked around. He looked at the tank. He looked at Gelbin.

“Would you like to come into the workshop? It’s a cold night.”

“IF. YOU. WOULD LEAD ME WILLINGLY INTO YOUR STRONGHOLD, I WOULD INVITE SUCH A FOOLISH ERROR.”

Gelbin hopped down from the tank and began walking briskly towards the workshop (and importantly, not towards the city). Jaraxxus gave a look to all the guns that Gelbin just cheerfully abandoned as if they gave no advantage at all and followed stiffly, clearly completely at a loss of what to do besides obey.

Gelbin kept his pace normal as his field workshop came into view, and confidently strode in first.

And as the door opened, Gelbin stepped to the side and onto one of several buttons just behind it.

Immediately as Jaraxxus came in behind him, one of the security systems he’d developed kicked into action. In mere seconds, the prototype legion operative trapping device (or P.L.O.T. device) sent fel-guided restraints around his legs and arms with legendary dwarvish precision. There was even a gag! Jaraxxus fell to the ground with a furious (but muffled) yell, and wiggled around to no avail.

Gelbin put his hands on his hips. Worked perfectly, first time! _Pays to be prepared._ He thought with satisfaction.

He kneeled beside Jaraxxus, who glared daggers at him from where his face was squished against the floor, continuing the muffled tirade.

“Sorry about that, but I can’t have a Legion invasion in my city. Wait here.” Gelbin said, then hurried off towards Ironforge, ignoring the muffled threats from behind the door.

He had to get help for this, and he knew just who to ask.

\--

Gelbin wound through the crowded square, dodging groups of gnomes, dwarves, and alliance races of all kinds without too much difficulty. He was stopped several times, but with a little small talk, slipped away.

He found the queen near the announcing stand. She was kneeling beside her son, Dagran, fixing a piece of his costume that had fallen loose. Gelbin wasn’t entirely sure what the lad was supposed to be- part of it looked like armor, but he also looked to be on ‘fire’ with some paper flames. Finishing fixing it, Moira patted Dagran on the head, and he ran off with the other children. She stood and looked to Gelbin.

“He couldn’t decide whether to be a paladin or the new fire-lord, so he did both. Made it himself, ‘cept for the armor.”

“He’s a creative one!”

“That he is.” Moira turned to him with a smile, then noticed his expression. She was immediately alert.

“Has something happened?”

“In a manner of speaking. It’s under control, and I don’t want any commotion, but… I could use your advice.”

Moira nodded. “Let’s be discreet, then. We’ll talk more outside.”

Gelbin followed behind her as she strode calmly, but with purpose, out towards the gates. This time, there were fewer questions. She was a true statesman, Moira. Her very presence always seemed to communicate exactly what she intended it to. It was a shame how dwarvish prejudice had limited her.

Once they were outside in the crisp autumn air and, after nodding to the guards, had made their way out of earshot, she turned to him again.

“Alrigh’, what’s the nature of this emergency.”

“Well, we’ve had a bit of an invader.” Gelbin began. “He was pretty easily caught, but… well. I think you’d better see this one for yourself.”

\---

Moira squinted at the bound demon. Said demon wiggled around, yelling something unintelligible behind the gag.

“Kinda’ skinny, fer eredar.”

Gelbin looked at ‘Jaraxxus’ again. He had a hard time thinking of any of the hulking draenei as small, but on closer inspection, he was indeed kind of scrawny compared to some warriors of his kind Gelbin had seen.

“I think he was a summoner, mainly, unless he was holding back for some reason the previous two times we encountered him.”

“And you don’t know when _he_ was summoned, or by who, or where he came from?”

Gelbin shook his head. “Didn’t really wait. And I have a feeling he won’t be quite in the mood to tell us, at the moment.”

Jaraxxus wiggled angrily again, spitting what was probably curse-words (whether just rude or a literal curse) through the gag. Moira regarded him for a moment, then turned and smiled exaggeratedly unpleasantly at Gelbin, winking once out of Jaraxxus’ line of vision. He nodded back, affecting an especially careless attitude.

“And it can’t escape?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry. This P.L.O.T. device is specially designed for fel-containment.”

“Then I think, High Tinker, that you ought to leave him here and enjoy the feast. We can have some of his ex-compatriots tell us all about him later, I think.”

Gelbin smiled at the title. “Well, that sounds like a plan, Queen Reagent.”

“Wonderful.” Moira drawled almost comically maliciously. “You shouldn’t let something so… small spoil the night.”

“Of course. “

And they shut the door on the now furiously wiggling fel lord without further discussion.

At the feast, Gelbin couldn’t quite forget their captive demon, but Moira was the same as ever, a master at acting as if nothing at all was amiss. He tried his best to emulate her. They’d had a more serious talk outside, and determined that there really was no risk in leaving him a bit longer, so he knew he shouldn’t worry, but it felt strange to say the least. He was sure some of his friends could tell he was nervous.

After the feast concluded, Moira found the remainder of the council to let them know, and Gelbin set about contacting Velen to see if they could arrange for someone who knew Jaraxxus to come and advise them. He supposed it was lucky that it had been him who’d found Jaraxxus first. All the leaders of the allied races of the Alliance had some form of contact, he could contact Velen without delay on his magic missive sendulator (or MMS). He felt a bit bad, though. It was generally understood that the Prophet and his people were on a sort of vacation after finally being freed of the thousands of years of being under the legion’s shadow. But it had to be done. The three hammers were already scrabbling a bit on whether to keep or kill him, and Moira had to firmly remind them that Jaraxxus was Gelbin’s prisoner, not theirs.

They’d all gone together to the office only to find the fel lord sound asleep on the floor, snoring noisily. After Falstad woke him with an all-too-gleeful kick, a small group of Dwarvish and gnomish mages and guards who had been gathered to escort him confiscated his armor and transferred him to the Ironforge prisons used for high-profile and political prisoners.

Since this was bound to alert the city, Gelbin and Muradin had been tasked with announcing everything. As such, there was a sizable amount of onlookers by the time the furious fel lord was taken through the city, but the extreme restraints seemed to satisfy, and besides assorted congratulations (especially from gnomes) and one scolding from an understandably worried Nissa, the transfer went on without a hitch.

Once he was in, his bindings were removed with a bit of magic, and he immediately began shouting again. The “YOU FOOLS, YOU’VE ONLY BROUGHT ME INTO YOUR STRONGHOLD” and “YOU WILL FEEL MY WRATH!” and such were stoutly ignored as everything was secured and prepared.

“Now, we’ll treat you humanely, you wretch, despite the trick of leavin’ ya in the office for the feast.” Moira told him, after rapping on the bars to get him to shut up.

“You’ll have dinner, and tea. We aren’t monsters like your lot.”

In protest of Jaraxxus’ outfit, which was truly miniscule when his armor had been taken from him, Muradin had also had someone go and find him the largest shirt they could- a flannel made for a very fat dwarf. The result was that it was wide enough, but still far too short for him.  The pants they offered were rejected with disdain.

The sight of the eredar lord in a plaid shirt that barely covered his ribs and a leather miniskirt miserably eating a bowl of soup was almost enough to make Gelbin laugh, and Falstad didn’t even try not to, rolling with mirth as soon as he saw him.

What a night.

 


	2. Jaraxxus' trial and Jarasum's name

After only two days, Velen arrived at the city with an artificer he’d found that knew Jaraxxus on Argus and had agreed to come named Aayel, and three of his guard. The unique situation had lent itself to expediency, and so they’d traveled to Stormwind via portal, then taken the tram. Also in attendance were Gelbin and the Council. They all met in the royal hall of Ironforge, not the prison; something that was made possible by Gelbin’s busy work over the last few days. He’d been making magical restraints specially designed for man’ari, and the result was a sour faced Jaraxxus seated before them with one of Moira’s teacups, frowning but otherwise unrestricted except for relatively unobtrusive bands around his ankles and wrists, and a collar.

(Nissa had suggested putting a ring on it, but Gelbin had flatly denied on principle.)

He was wearing a different shirt today, and that first one had apparently been truly hard to find in girth, because this one was even smaller. The effect when combined with the suppressor bands and the same leather skirt was enough to make Falstad collapse in laughter a second time. Gelbin was sure the image would be seared on his eyeballs for at least a week.

“I can see why you asked us to bring clothes.” Artificer Aayel sneered as the envoy entered.

When they were all settled and had been awkwardly served tea, Moira nodded at the artificer. “So you know this so called Eredar lord Jaraxxus?”

“Jarasum.”

“Jarasum?”

Aayel nodded. “His name. I won’t humor that disgusting man’ari foolishness.”

Jaraxxus scowled at her. “Jarasum is no more!”

“His hair is no more, that’s for sure.”

“YOU INSOLENT TRAITOR!”

“Silence!” Velen said firmly, and both fell quiet. “Please, artificer, tell us what you know about him.”

“Easily.” Aayel nodded. “This traitor was Archimonde’s lapdog. A grand Vizier of the Augari, who specialized in summoning and teleportation.”

“My skills are NOT so limited, you wretch!”

“Oh, right. And some pretty shit fire magic.”

Jaraxxus- or should it be Jarasum?-  scowled at her, but said nothing more to defend himself. Muradin and Velen nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“Who summoned you, and where are they now?” Velen asked next. Behind him, Aayel scowled and gestured threateningly.

Jarasum leaned back nervously, suddenly quick to answer.

“A vile wyrmtongue who was left behind on this planet missed its leaders so that it summoned me to help it, or perhaps to suffer here with it. I do not know. I killed it immediately after summoning, of course.”

“That seems to be typical for you.” Gelbin remarked.   
  
“Of course it is! I am the summoner, not the summoned! It is an ultimate insult!”  

“A suitable one for you, you worm!” cried Aayel. “You’ve become more demon than man, no better than your pets!”

This time, Moira interrupted them, with a sharp “OY!” Then (after a withering, matronly look) she turned politely to Velen.

“We have some questions of our own.”

“Of course.”

“We didn’t have much trouble catching him, but can you tell us anything about the risk, or what you think should be done?” Gelbin asked.

“Well.” Velen said calmly, “I do not think he is any more risk than what you have seen. He can come back with us… or he could remain here.” Privately, Velen didn’t want to deal with this, and hoped his offer would be accepted. “He could work here, instead of being our prisoner. A form of community service, maybe.”

Gelbin looked around, then nodded. “Fine with me. I don’t want to burden you at a time like this, and I suppose we could use the extra hands about now.”

”Do you have a way to ensure safety?”

“I’ve clearly been restrained.” Jarasum snarled, waving a hand.

Velen turned. “This reminds me. What is the nature of these restraints, High Tinker?”

“Ah! Made those myself for this. Well, they’re first and foremost silencers of magic.” Gelbin adjusted his glasses. “But there is also a security protocol! If he tries and takes one of those off, the rest will shock him with what I estimate to be just about three times as much power required to destroy his current physical form. And if he gets any ideas and, through whatever means, my own heart stops…”

Gelbin flicked his eyes to his captive, catching him looking at him. When their eyes met Jaraxxus’ eyes widened, ears flicking back. Gelbin addressed him.

“It’ll be just about four-point-five times as much. Got it?”

“Maybe the ugly blighter wants that!” Cried Falstad. “So he can pop up somewhere else, free!”

Artificer Aayel shook her head. “No, I think not. The legion is disbanded. Returning could take millennia now, and there’s no way to know.” She gave Jarasum a hard stare. “He got very lucky, and he knows it.”

“Maybe it was fate.” Velen added serenely.

Aayel didn’t even glance at him, maintaining her glare. “Even you aren’t stupid enough to try that. And if you are, it just means we’ll likely never have to deal with you again. You’re lucky to have been summoned at all, but even luckier that it was nowhere near Azuremist, or you’d be back in the nether right now.”

Velen put a hand on her arm. “Still, it’s better to have him unquestionably under watch.”

She relented immediately. “Of course, Prophet.”

“And things often happen that are unexpected, but important.” His calm gaze turned to Jarasum, who met it, although suitably cowed. “Don’t think I don’t remember you, Jarasum. You were a good student, and loyal. That loyalty led you astray, but all is not lost. I have seen many things, in the past few years. There are Nathrezim in the army of the light.”

Velen turned towards Artificer Aayel somberly. The whole room was quiet. The prophet had the sort of aura that made people serious when he spoke.

“Aayel is right. You are very lucky. Do not let this chance go to waste. It is your choice.”

Jarasum looked at the floor sourly. “I will… not attempt escape.”

“More than I expected to hear.” Velen said, rolling with the lackluster statement as if he _had_ expected it, actually. He looked at Gelbin.

“Tell me if he’s too much trouble.”

“I don’t expect he will be, Prophet. Thank you for coming all this way, and for your guidance.”

“Of course.”

And having given a satisfactory verdict that would keep Jaraxxus out of his hair, Velen nodded, and Aayel and their small guard of three immediately began preparing to leave as if he’d given a signal.

Falstad piped up again. “Wait, now. We keepin’ him? Where will the big lug sleep?”

Everyone paused for a moment.

“I have a spare room.” Gelbin said.

Jaraxxus shrugged. “I have no objections.”

“Are you confident in those bonds?” Aayel said sternly.

“I am.”

“And I’m even more confident in the guard of the city.” Moira added.

“Then do as you will.” Aayel shrugged.

And with that, the Draenei envoy set off, headed by Velen. It was time he took his leave to return to his vacation, happy with the outcome. He had some parties to get to of his own.

\--

Gelbin led them to his house, flanked by a squad of tinkers.

 “So I am no prisoner?”

“Nope! Although I suppose if you didn’t want to stay with me you shouldn’t have agreed to. I can’t imagine the council will just let you go harass someone else at home.”

“And if I decide to conquer this whole wretched place?”

“Then I’d imagine you’ll have some trouble in the city. I think it’s safer for us that you’re in here, instead of the opposite.”

Jarasum only grunted.

 

After getting him set up, they ended up with the fel lord sitting stiffly at the table while Gelbin looked awkwardly at him, wondering if he could leave him here and go work tomorrow, and if he’d want dinner, and if the 3 or 4 gnomes he estimated were currently outside would knock soon.

“Why keep it up?” Gelbin finally had to ask.

“What do you mean.”

“The whole…” he waved a hand vaguely. “’Eredar lord of the burning legion’ business. Why not just… give it up? The legion was destroyed.”

“I would not ‘just give it up’. It was the path and title I chose.”

 “It doesn’t seem like it got you anything worth holding onto. You went from being a respected, well liked vizier to. Well, no offense, but...” Gelbin gestured again.

“I was never well liked.” Jarasum replied flatly.

“Oh. Well then. From a respected, disliked Grand Vizier to a disrespected, hated, and subjugated failure of a demon, then. Suppose trying to pick the winning side didn’t exactly turn out for you.”

Jarasum sat bolt upright, smacking his fists petulantly on the table.

“I was NOT picking the winning side!” he cried, suddenly angrier than Gelbin had ever seen him in his interrogation. He stood, hands still in fists, although he made no moves towards Gelbin.

“I served Archimonde, Master of the Augari! I was a prized student! He demanded the best, and I gave the best! He did what he did for knowledge, and I followed! I was unwavering! I did- I did _not CHOOSE_ the winning side! I AM NO SPINELESS, OPPORTUNISTIC WORM!”

Jarasum looked down at him with a truly indescribable look on his face. Gelbin wasn’t sure if he was going to try and set him on fire or burst into tears.

 “I WAS LOYAL!”

He stamped a hoof on the floor petulantly and flung himself back in the chair again, head in his hands.

“I WAS LOYAL TO HIM! I NEVER FALTERED!”

Gelbin watched this outburst, for once at a complete loss. He could almost understand it, which frightened him. Loyalty. Where had loyalty to a man he’d trusted gotten him?

Gelbin tried for a second to imagine how things might have turned out if Thermaplug was the boss, but the thought was so terrible that he immediately backtracked, shuddering.   
He looked up again at Jarasum. The man had never looked so pathetic, worn and small.

Gelbin sighed.

He had to stop wishing to give people second chances so easily.

He leaned back, putting his head in his hand. “You haven’t messed up half as much as me, I assure you. I had a hand in my whole species’ near-extermination.”

When he only got a glare, he laughed. “What, don’t believe it? We’re going to need coffee for this.”

“What is coffee?”

Gelbin’s eyebrows raised. “Cream and sugar in yours, then.”

Gelbin served them both and sat at the table, and then followed a candid explanation of the whole saga of Sicco Thermaplug. Jarasum listened like he couldn’t believe Gelbin’s candidness.

“And this really happened as you say?”

“Ask anyone. Or several anyones- better sample size.”

“Hm.”

Jarasum headed off to the guest room uncharacteristically quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I didn't fully write out the conversation about Thermaplug- it was a time saving measure as the deadline approached. I'm not sure if I'll go back and fully write it out.


	3. Gnome entourage

The next morning, Gelbin woke before dawn, as always. On his way to the kitchen, he paused by the guest door, and was met with cacophonous snoring from the other side. Well, it _was_ only four AM. Grabbing some toast and coffee, he wandered out the door… to find two members of Gnomish special ops seated on either side of it. He recognized them immediately as Jarri Sparkflight, 38, and Fredrik Lockbolt, 72.

“What is this?”

Jarri saluted. “Third watch of the night, sir. Don’t worry about our health!”

“I’m not- I mean, I’m glad, but that’s-“ Gelbin rubbed his nose, sliding his glasses up his face. “How long do you intend to be here?”

“Until he leaves, sir!” Fredrik chirped.

“Then we’ll follow him.” Jarri added.

Gelbin sighed. “I’ll just go get him now, then.”

 

Unfortunately, he got no respite when he’d gathered Jarasum and headed to the yard. There was a cloud of Gnomeregan citizens waiting as Gelbin, an irate Jarasum and his new chaperones rounded the hill. Jarasum was fully dressed, for once- but barely. He seemed to have an allergy to weather-appropriate clothing, and had somehow arranged the robes he’d been left with to show most of his chest.

The watch continued as he oversaw various projects, as he held meetings, and then even as he started on work projects of his own. In fact, he wasn’t sure, but the number of people around them might have increased throughout the day. And through it all, Jarasum stood awkwardly by, watching everything with a frown. He was told several times by both Gelbin and other tinkers (much less politely) that he wasn’t required to stay, but he refused each time. Gelbin kept catching him staring intensely at him as he did things.

Gelbin decided to ignore him as he worked on assembling a prototype mechanostrider. He could feel eyes on him, but refused to be deterred, and eventually became so engrossed in the task that he forgot that Jarasum was even there.

That is, until a red face appeared on the other side of the machine. Gelbin glanced up, lifting his visor, to find Jarasum kneeling so he was at Gelbin’s height and eyeing the gun.

“What is this.”

Gelbin could almost appreciate the blunt request. “A vehicle of my own invention! Thinking of adding a flamethrower option.”

“Arcane fire?”

“No, just propellants.”

Suddenly, Jarasum lifted the strider a little with one hand. Gelbin looked over in surprise, then turned back- the angle was better.

“Arcane flame lasts longer.”

“It requires a certain kind of user, though.”

Jarasum nodded. “The worthy.”

Gelbin sighed. “I think I’ll stick with the lowly chemical methods, for now.”

And so began their new arrangement. Virtually anywhere Gelbin went, especially at first, there was a whole entourage with them. At work, in public, and even at home- although he tried multiple times to convince them it was un-needed. Jarasum himself was dismissive at first, but eventually began to help more, even (although Gelbin suspected it might have been a ploy by his tinkers to get him away from Gelbin) working on his own.  

In spite of himself, Gelbin was also learning more about Jarasum. He had no real ‘inside voice’, for one, and even when inside his words tended… to carry. He was also a truly voracious student. The only time he’d ‘escaped’, being nowhere in sight when Gelbin left a meeting, Gelbin had been pointed to the archives of Ironforge. There he’d found Jarasum reading, gnomish guards in tow. How he’d been permitted inside was unclear, but he’d managed it, and returned there often afterwards to read about a dizzying array of subjects. Magical theory was a clear favorite, but Gelbin still wasn’t sure if there was a theme to his interests beyond that. He’d read anything. Eventually, he’d managed to convince the librarians to let him take some books home.

The spare room was kept spotlessly clean, but Jarasum had a habit of setting the book he was reading down and then leaving it there, then starting another and leaving it, until there were half read books scattered throughout the house. Gelbin wasn’t sure how he kept up with them all. Gelbin noticed that for some reason, almost all the books left sitting on the tables and counters were engineering manuals, and Jarasum’s comments on his work had improved in both relevancy and depth surprisingly quickly. Gelbin found himself explaining things as we went, and found to his surprise that Jarasum’s unique Augari perspective actually helped him think of a new solution to a problem on several occasions. Soon, they were something approaching partners in builds. Jarasum even began to have similar interactions with other engineers who could look past his ‘unique’ manner of speaking.

It had also become apparent that the getup they’d found Jarasum in was not just assigned by the legion. He eschewed pants of all kinds, and Gelbin suspected that he’d only switched to long skirts and robes over short ones because of the fast-approaching Dun Morogh winter. Whenever there was a possibility of making his outfit more revealing, Jarasum took it.

There were constant complaints from Jarasum that he couldn’t use magic, and only slightly less constant grandstanding, but overall, things weren’t as chaotic as they could have been.

\--

Things changed suddenly for the first time a few weeks later, while a team was working on a siege tower further from the city than usual. Gelbin had been welding, Jarasum had been messing with a gun, and Nissa had been glaring at Jarasum, when an engineer had called out in alarm.

Off where they were pointing was the offending creature- a yeti! Their scout aimed their gun, but before they could shoot, they were interrupted by:

**_INFERNO!_ **

Everyone looked in the other direction to see Jarasum, posing as if casting a spell. Nothing happened. He snarled at his bracelet, then… tackled the yeti.  

The scout was first too shocked to shoot, then collapsed laughing as an angry eredar hoofed the Yeti in the head, sending it scrambling off into the hills in fear.

After that, things became easier with his tinkers, though Gelbin couldn’t tell if the change was from increased trust due to the intent of Jarasum’s actions, or good humor from how ridiculous they were.

Gelbin wasn't quite sure how he'd felt. The change in atmosphere was certainly welcome, but... He'd expected this to be another burden for him to take for others. Nothing he couldn't handle, but nothing good.   
He hadn't expected Jarasum to be so curious, or untroublesome, or almost endearing in his awkward manner of speech. He certainly hadn't expected him to get along with the tinkers. He hadn't expected things to be so... nice. Gelbin supposed it was just relief, and maybe a little of his usual guilt. 

But as he watched Jarasum sitting stock-still on the edge of a table, listening somberly while an elderly dwarvish nurse on a stepstool talked his ear off and changed the bandage on his face for a smaller one, Gelbin felt some unnamed emotion that was neither of those pull at his stomach and claw at his throat. 

 


	4. The romantic part

The second time that things changed suddenly for them was the beginning of December. Gelbin was going to check in with his team in Gnomregan, and he was bringing a special headlight for one of their vehicles while he was there. Jarasum had tagged along, and Gelbin found he didn’t mind. In fact, he was pretty happy. Jarasum had definitely taken a shine to him, and things had become eerily comfortable over the last few months.

As he hopped off his strider, the snow sparkled, and the air was cold and still.

It was… still?

Gelbin stopped in his tracks, dropping the bulb. Luckily it didn’t shatter, sinking into the deep winter snow without a sound. He felt Jarasum stop beside him, hoof-steps coming to a halt when they were in line with each other.

No one was with them! But he’d not been left alone in a trip to Gnomeregan’s halls since the city fell. Which meant…

Gelbin looked up at Jarasum in shock, pushing his glasses up his nose a bit. The gaze was met, then broken, as his apparent bodyguard shuffled in confusion, looking at the bulb, then at Gelbin again, then at the ground.

“You dropped that.”

“You’re my guard!”

“What?”

“Haven’t you noticed? We’re alone! I suppose my tinkers trust you.”

Jarasum looked down at him imperiously. “I don’t care what they think.”

“Well, I do! Come here a second.”

Obliging despite his tone, Jarasum leaned down to Gelbin’s height. This maneuver put him nearly prostrated on the ground, but he’d gotten it down pat by now, kneeling on his long skirts in the snow.

The inquisitive look he gave Gelbin quickly turned to shock as he reached over and, with a click, undid one of Jarasum’s magical dampeners.

“If they trust you, I do.”

One by one, Gelbin removed the rest of them from the shocked man, then started gathering up the bands from the snow. Jarasum remained kneeling there, frozen in place.

“Honestly, I already did, but I didn’t want to have anyone freak out and fire at you, cause a scene, you know-“

Gelbin was interrupted by a tentative hand on his shoulder. He looked up just as an eredar face moved down, and ended up head-butting him on the forehead. After a beat Jarasum quickly backed away, falling back to sit in the snow and…. blushing. He turned a deep plum color when he did, Gelbin noted.

“Thank you.” Jarasum said, finally, scooping up the bulb as he stood up.

“Of course. I trust you won’t betray my, well, trust?”

Jarasum just shook his head furiously and began marching abruptly up the way, still blushing.

Gelbin put the bands in his pockets, a little confused, and followed.

\--

“I made a mistake earlier.”

It was later that same night, and they were sitting in Gelbin’s tiny living room. Gelbin was picking at some biscuits and reading a new proposal for a type of jet propulsion system, and Jarasum had been in the middle of a book of magical theory that he’d begged from one of Ironforge’s more lenient magic-practitioners. He was still looking at it even as he spoke.

“Or. Well. I didn’t make one. It was not the time. Not that I ever had any issues with power balance before. But it would be in poor taste, still. I think.” His tail swished agitatedly.

Gelbin sat up. “Wait, wait. What was this mistake?” He couldn’t think of anything evil that had happened since officially (if a little prematurely) releasing Jarasum from parole, but he’d never heard him ramble like that. Not so quietly, anyway.

Jarasum looked at the book with an unreadable expression for a second.

“Headbutting you.”

“Oh. Well, that was hardly an issue. You didn’t hurt me a bit.”

“No.” Jarasum’s face scrunched, frustrated.

“No?”

“Come here.”

“Alright,” Gelbin chuckled, slightly bemused, and moved to hop off his chair, but was stopped.

“No. Wait. Stay there.”

Gelbin stayed. Jarasum sat up and came to sit before him on the floor, so their faces were at about the same height. He stared at Gelbin for a moment with intense focus.

Then he kissed him on the nose.

He leaned back again almost immediately, and there was a long moment in which neither man moved. Slowly, Jarasum’s face grew more and more plum colored.

“WAS THIS AMENABLE.” he shouted abruptly, directly in Gelbin’s face.

Gelbin blinked a few times. “Yes. Uh. It was.”

They looked at each other for a minute, Gelbin taking and losing bets with himself of how purple Jarasum’s face could become.

“Do you need some time to process this?” he offered after a minute.

“YES I DO. GOODNIGHT.” Jarasum bellowed again, and then stood up and scurried to the guest room.

What a night.

Gelbin had some thinking to do as well.

\--

The next morning involved several heartfelt talks, lots of heartfelt yelling, and in the end, both men were late to show up to work.


	5. Full circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty short due to time again. I might add more to it later- not sure!

It was a cold evening, and the first feast of Winter’s Veil was set for that night in Ironforge. But outside in the machine yard, two people were not quite yet ready for the festivities. A large, bright red man’ari, slightly under-dressed for the weather, was fiddling with a gun attachment, occasionally handing tools to the other man, inside the tank. They’d made a promise to show up, but not quite yet. The air was crisp and still, broken only by their voices from time to time.

Yes, all was peaceful…… until, suddenly they were disturbed by a sound. A sound of encroaching chaos. None other than an inquisitor demon was cackling its way up the path leading to the city, and monologuing to itself in such a way that neither man could miss it.

_“Aha… the fools.. as they have grown fat and stupid in celebrations… I have waited. Their souls will be my feast. I see them all. Every man woman and child will-“_

“TRIFLING, INSIGNIFICANT CREATURE.”

The inquisitor demon sensed a fel presence, confusingly very faded but still noticeably eredar, almost as soon as it heard Jarasum. It looked a bit confused as it saw him- he made quite a figure in two separate layered plunging neck robes, welding gloves, and an enormous and obviously home-made knitted scarf- but quickly perked up.

_“Jaraxxus! Lord! We have found each other! Join me in desecrating this place and we will work together to take our new place over these-“_

The demon was cut off again, by some familiar, absolute max volume bellowing.

**_“INFERNO!!!”_ **

When the inquisitor had been satisfactorily incinerated, Jarasum looked down proudly from where Gelbin’s head was poking out of the tank, watching the embers of the demon fade from this plane with interest. He was blatantly hoping to impress.

“Nice shot. I can only take one occurrence like you, I think. Pass me the spanner?”

“As if that hideous creature could take my place.”

“You have me there.” Gelbin grinned. “Besides, your chest is nicer.”

Jarasum snorted and returned primly to his seat on a stack of tires, passing the spanner. He got a kiss on the knuckles as payment before both men returned to their tasks. If they hurried, they wouldn’t miss the banquet, as promised, and would be allowed to join in the drinking afterwards with friends.

 _I already have a new place, thank you very much_. Jarasum thought smugly to himself as he picked up the attachment again.

The snow glittered, and the air was still. 


	6. Post-script (Slightly naughty)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the one with the dirty joke! Be warned!

On a beach in Tanaris, the sun shone warmly as waves lapped softly at the shore. Seated on a beach chair in a colorful robe and swim trunks was Prophet Velen himself, and several other draenei were relaxing or playing in the water nearby.

He was awakened from the nap he’d drifted into while laying there in the sun by a little chime. He lifted his Gnomish Magical Missive Sendulator (or MMS), and with a press of a button, the High tinker’s nervous voice came tinnily through the speakers. He seemed to be shouting.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOUR FOLK GO INTO _HEAT?!?!_ ”

“Why would I tell you this?” Velen asked in confusion, sitting up and pulling down his sunglasses. “Do you not?”  
  
“OF COURSE I DON’T! WHY WOULD- …Hm, that’s an interesting discussion for later, actually.”

There was only one situation Gelbin could be in to warrant this conversation. Velen took advantage of his distraction to cut in. “You can ignore him if you’d like. He won’t die if left lonely for it, no matter what lies he told you.”

Velen could almost hear a dismissive hand-wave through the gnomish device. “No, no, he hasn’t been coercive, Rather the opposite, actually. Just a little…..…. loud.” Gelbin finished awkwardly.

There was a short pause.

“About how long will this last?”

“Around two days. Slightly more when alone, but it should not make much difference.”

There was another pause. Velen could almost feel Gelbin thinking through the line.

“Slightly?”

“Do not worry yourself over it.”

“Well. You know. …Efficiency.”

“Are you asking if it would be more efficient to aid him?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.” Velen allowed himself a slight pause before adding, impishly: “Slightly.”

He waited smugly through one last silence.

“Any tips?”

“He doesn’t have to… I think you say, be on the top?” Velen explained, masterfully hiding his amusement.

“U- Understood.”

The sound of someone furiously scribbling something.

“I have to go. Thank you for the… help, prophet.”

“Of course. Happiness in the joining.” Velen replied, then hung up before Gelbin could react, chuckling to himself.

As he set aside the MMS, a lightforged woman walked up with a strawberry daiquiri in each hand. She handed Velen one. “Is everything alright, Prophet Velen?”

“When one has faith, everything is.” Velen sighed happily, taking the frilly drink.


End file.
